


One Cathedral

by sleepismyfriend



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 13:23:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1512056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepismyfriend/pseuds/sleepismyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She lived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Cathedral

**Author's Note:**

> An alternate ending for 18th and Potomac.

She remembers stopping at the light, the circular red glare staring back at her, as both hands rested on the steering wheel at ten and two. Her eyes had phased out, as she delighted in the slight buzz of cool air that filled the inside of her new car.

She then smiled, and tapped her thumbs gently against the grey leatherette. Maybe Jed was right, maybe there really was such a thing as the smell of freedom. 

Tires screeched, glass shattered, and the world around her faded away.

\--

Her eyes flutter, not quite willing to open, as warm fingers curl around her left hand, and a low familiar cadence fills her space. She recognizes the Latin, though she doesn't quite recognize what is being said.

Does he think she's dead?

Her eyes slit open, and Jed stands with his head bowed and eyes closed. She wonders how long he's been able to stand there without Leo or Charlie stopping him. Her eyes shift towards her right hand, where an IV has been inserted amidst a large purplish yellow bruise that has started to fade.

The bruises don't start or stop there, trailing up her arm in random places. How long has she been here? 

Maybe mentally asking questions isn't the best idea, she surmises. Her eyes are far too heavy, and she closes them. With a weak grip on Jed's hand, she tries to squeeze, and the attempt is half-hearted at best. 

His prayer stops.

"Delores?" Jed whispers. She knows he'd smile if he saw her open her eyes, but right now, he's looking at her with a little bit of hope and a whole lot more relief because that is the man Jed Bartlet is. "It's okay. You rest awhile longer. I'll be here next time you wake."

\--

The next time her eyes open, it is Charlie, who sits in Jed's place.

"Hey," Charlie says, jumping up at the movement. This time around, Delores's eyes open further than before, as she feels the tubes that run down from her nose and along her cheeks. "How do you feel?"

"Like a pancake." Her hoarse voice grates the back of her throat like an antibody on the attack. 

"You may feel like a pancake, but the way you've survived, you're definitely a waffle," Charlie smiles. "Waffles are significantly more structurally sound than pancakes." 

Her eyes try to glare, despite the fact she can barely move them.

"The President?"

"Had to return to the Oval. But, he made me promise to tell you that he will be back as soon as he can with the First Lady, and that you should try not to die before then." Charlie's hands come together in front of him, and he's looking all too pleased that he was able to relay the President's message despite what the message meant.

"Wonderful."

His satisfied expression then falls, as he leans on the side bedrail, and his eyes widen in that innocent look he gets when he talks about his mother's shooting, or has a particularly parental moment with Jed.

"I'd also prefer it if you didn't before then," he says slowly, as she touches his arm.

"I'll see what I can do." Her hand falls, and Charlie straightens. "But first, hit me with the bad news."

"You have four bruised ribs, a broken right leg, a sprained left ankle and right wrist, and there's significant cuts, scratches, and bruising over your entire body."

"How'd the other guy fare?"

"Not important."

"Charlie—" 

"He blew his BAC at levels that the President had a hard time reconciling." Tension builds in Charlie's voice then quickly dissipates. "Needless to say, he'll be behind the safety of confined bars for the foreseeable future. Are you in pain?"

"With four bruised ribs? No, Charlie, I'm pretty peachy. All I need is a straw hat, and a drink with an umbrella."

"I'll go grab the doctor." He turns to leave. 

"Hey Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"Call the President first. He'll just pace the office and bother Leo if you don't. Be sure to ask him what's next?" 

The smile starts at Charlie's eyes, and spreads. "Yes ma'am."


End file.
